


Home is Where the Heart Is (TOS)

by CaiPrince13 (almostasgayasstartrek)



Series: Star Trek One Shots [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 22:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8074897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostasgayasstartrek/pseuds/CaiPrince13
Summary: When Jim told Spock to make himself at home, he wasn't expecting the Vulcan to take it quite so literally. Not that Jim minds.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I bet you guys thought I'd never come back! That was probably wise of you. I'm so bad at writing fanfiction. Anyway, I caught the Trekkie bug, so there will probably be several of these little fics in the future. Hope you all enjoy them!
> 
> This fic actually has two versions, one for the original series (this one) and one for the reboots (will post link when I upload it). I am fascinated with the differences between the two versions of the characters and wanted to experiment with what changes the characterizations would bring to the story itself. Hope you enjoy!

Jim grinned as the door to his quarters slid open to reveal the level stare of his first officer. Spock raised an eyebrow at his expression but said nothing.

“Mr. Spock, what can I do for you?” Jim asked cheekily. He, of course, knew exactly why Spock was here, but he liked to play dumb on occasion just to see how Spock would respond.

“Captain, I believe we had a preexisting appointment, but if you have another engagement we may certainly reschedule.” This was accompanied by a slight raise in the elevation of Spock’s eyebrows, an expression that Jim liked to think of as a Vulcan shrug.

“No, no, of course not, Mr. Spock, come in, come in.” Jim stepped away from the door, gesturing widely with an arm for Spock to enter. His First Officer stepped primly into the room, hands held customarily behind his back. Jim offered Spock a drink, which he declined, but those hooded eyes followed Jim as he prepared one for himself.

“Please, Mr. Spock, make yourself at home.” He grinned at Spock over his shoulder and added, “That’s an order. We are good friends and you are entirely too willing to keep your distance.”

If Jim didn’t know better, he might have thought that he had shocked the Vulcan. It shouldn’t have, because Spock _was_ entirely too distant and didn’t seem to be putting forth any effort to close that distance. Jim, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. He shamelessly took advantage of any opportunity he received to get closer to his first officer, both emotionally and physically.

It wasn’t that Spock seemed to mind it. After all, he was a touch telepath and Jim was rather handsy so he couldn’t be entirely ignorant of Jim’s intentions, despite his rather surprising naïve streak. It only took Spock a moment to even out his expression, returning his eyebrows to normal and then taking his customary seat at the chess table.

Having retrieved his drink, Jim settled in for a nice quiet match with a formidable opponent.

By the time they were ten minutes into the game and Jim was three moves away from a checkmate, it was obvious that Spock’s mind was not on the game. Jim slid his fingers idly down the head of his bishop before using it to take Spock’s remaining knight.

“Your mind is wandering,” Jim observed, leaning forward on one elbow and giving Spock what he hoped was a smile that said ‘you can trust me with your secrets’ but by Spock’s raised eyebrow probably said something else entirely.

“I assure you, Captain, that my mind is precisely where it should be,” Spock said. Jim chuckled. Sometimes he wondered how many of Jim’s metaphors and sayings actually went over Spock’s head and how many he deliberately misinterpreted.

“Then am I to take it that I am just particularly good at chess tonight?”

Spock’s lips twitched in the barest hint of a frown and he glanced down at the chess board. He stared at it for a long moment before quirking an eyebrow and gracefully tipping his king. Jim watched the way his fingers played over the piece, feeling the familiar warmth pooling in his belly. Spock let out an exhale that was perilously close to a sigh as he raised his eyes to Jim.

“Captain . . .” Spock hesitated for a moment. “Jim, may I make a query?”

“As you already have, I see no reason to stop another,” Jim said with a grin that he hoped would distract from the way his spine tensed. Spock was rarely anything less than certain with his words and the fact that he had used Jim’s name suggested that it was something of a personal nature. The thought made Jim feel warm inside.

 “Regarding your earlier statement,” Spock began, “am I to understand that you wish for me to be at home in your quarters?”

The way Spock’s brows furrowed at the center of his forehead made Jim’s lips quirk up. The part of himself that held Spock with the warmest regard wanted to press his lips to that furrow and smooth it from his face.

“Yes, that would be correct,” Jim said, wondering where this was going.

“Home. Noun. The place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household. Is this the correct definition?”

“Yes, that is the definition of home,” Jim said, beginning to feel like a broken hollovid as he shifted in his seat.

“Then am I to understand that you wish for me to make myself a permanent resident of your quarters?”

“Spock, listen, I wasn’t—” Jim spluttered as he half rose from his seat, hands held out in supplication. He very much enjoyed teasing his reticent friend, but had no desire to jeopardize what they had by pushing Spock into an overtly emotional situation. He had seen that backfire too many times before. Before he could fit his thoughts together into a coherent sentence, though, Spock spoke again.

“I find that I am not . . . unreceptive to that request,” he said, voice quiet as he studied the chess board with every appearance of seriousness. Jim was astonished to note that the Vulcan’s cheeks had turned a light shade of emerald. Jim’s heart gave a little skip in his chest.

“You aren’t?” Jim asked and his face must have shown his confusion because Spock’s brows quirked again as he looked up, dark eyes meeting his own. Jim found himself momentarily speechless. An excitement that was perilously close to fear warred with the warm adoration that always accompanied his thoughts of Spock.

“Jim, you must know that I hold you in the highest regard. You are practically . . . you _are_ family. That is to say . . .” Spock broke off, his expression almost lost, searching Jim’s face for something.

Jim’s lips split into a grin and he slowly reached his hand, palm up toward his first officer. Spock only hesitates for a moment before long, warm fingers brush tentatively against Jim’s hand.

“Mr. Spock, I know _exactly_ what you mean.”


End file.
